Afterglow
by Sorrow has a Human Heart
Summary: Spira has failed to maintain the peace. Amid self-blame and coping with tremendous loss in a  yet again  post-apocalyptic world, they cling to what is left. *Yunalai*


**A/N: No good/ perfect ending, assume the Youth League has disbanded.**

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**Afterglow**

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Failure. That was a word that never ceased to reverberate through both of their minds. He'd failed as a leader; she, as the token peace-bringer. Worse, it was more that the Spirans they both so believed in, the ones who'd been rescued from Sin and the threat of Vegnagun, who had failed.

"Stop thinking about it." Baralai murmured, staring up blankly at the cloudless, starry Besaid night from his place on the white sands.

"You first." Yuna uttered in a cracked voice, sloppily wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Bevelle was gone. Luca, obliterated. Djose, dust, along with all of the Moonflow. Guadosalam, radioactive. They had been that way for two years now. Only Besaid, Kilika, Bikanel, and Gagazet remained as the last holdouts of life after the brief, bloody Second Great Machina War. Never, ever did anyone want to believe that the whole of Spira could fall so easily to the moral decay and heinous desires of only a handful of people again, so shortly after Sin and Vegnagun.

Yuna blamed herself, because she'd seen it coming. She'd seen just how willing people were to fight and kill over petty political or philosophical differences. Yet, after Vegnagun was gone, she was naïve enough to believe that most if not all would be happy just to live peacefully and simply. She was so, so wrong. The Eternal Calm had merely been an illusion; just a fantasy—another false hope. Yu Yevon's Sin would never rise again, sure, but that apparently did nothing for the crimes some were still willing to perpetrate; genocide that made Sin's attacks look merciful. And, looking back, maybe that had been the point all along; to keep human bloodlust under control…so many doubts about everything plagued her heart now.

As for Baralai, he held himself personally responsible, for he _knew_ that Vegnagun had not been the last of the dangerous ancient weaponry stashed away underneath Bevelle. Those corridors were endless, and the destructive power they housed limitlessly apocalyptic. In short, it all started with a coup d'etat. A rebel faction of former Youth League fanatics had stormed the temple of St. Bevelle in the middle of the night, and started exiling anyone and everyone to do with New Yevon. Then, they'd gone searching for its best kept secrets, and found them.

Not knowing where else to go, he'd first fled to Luca, where Nooj was giving a history presentation at a local university. News of Bevelle's crisis travelled fast, however, and the former Meyvn had returned to Kilika for help. That only left one other place to go, and one other friend to seek out: Gippal, in Djose. But, it was as though the disaster was following him. By the time he'd reached the Machine Faction's headquarters, Bevelle was rumored to have been completely flattened, and Guadosalam was being bombed into oblivion. Luca was already transmitting desperate distress signals; sphere casts revealing that the rebel faction had found and activated the Vegna-Drones, small, unmanned airships with many of Vegnagun's capabilities.

Worst of all, they were after Baralai specifically. Places were destroyed and people died as they gave chase, a fact that would assuredly haunt him for the rest of his mortal life, and possibly more. Yet, what was he to do? They'd released him upon taking the temple, simply so that they _could _chase after him. Their idea was to use him to place the blame for the mass-murder squarely on New Yevon's shoulders. This fact had only become clear when it was much, much too late.

Gippal's Machine Faction was the only hope. And, the only thing that hope nearly delivered was mutually assured destruction. All of the Faction's best work clashed with the Vegna-Drones along the banks of the Moonflow and at Djose, and the battle was basically over before it had begun. Both Gippal and Paine had died in the first moments of fighting, as they'd voluntarily stationed themselves on the front lines. Cid and Rikku had been there until the last moments, and then narrowly escaped a final attack to flee back to Bikanel, along with a handful of Al Bhed survivors.

After that, Baralai awoke in a Besaid hut, injured, but not remembering how he'd been wounded or the journey there. He was shocked to find that the Lady Yuna was charged with his care. And, in time, as he recovered, he found that her heart was very nearly as weighed down as his own. How many times had he spied her in a back room, weeping over so many efforts in vain, and so many people that she'd never see again? Thus, when he was well, he chose to remain in Besaid permanently. There was nowhere else to go. For all they'd found to have in common, ironically, it was for their mutual scars and shame that they'd grown the most attached.

For the moment, Baralai chose to ignore her challenge to mindful stillness, choosing instead to console her for the millionth time. "You are not to blame."

Yuna didn't answer; she'd never agree. If only she'd done more than sing a song, then return to Besaid when the adventure was finished! Tensions back then were still so palpable, but she'd chosen to ignore them in favor of personal solace. Maybe she'd been right to believe that she deserved a break. Maybe someone really should have taken up the task, but no one did, and the consequences of that fact were now unchangeable.

"…You told me that you were preparing to destroy the Vegna-Drones…many, many times…"

"Too little, too late. Perhaps, if I'd made New Yevon's intentions of disarming public, it would have stilled some of the fanaticism."

"Maybe. Or, they would have done it sooner…It wasn't your fault, either." If Baralai's weak consolations numbered in the millions, then those Yuna offered him were in the trillions. She could do little else for him.

Intentions, plans, facts; solid, tangible, historical things that couldn't be changed always made their oppressive burden well known. Regardless of how or when it happened, the rebels had chased Baralai from Bevelle, and then destroyed it. And then, they followed him to Luca, and assaulted it, resulting in its demise. Lastly, they tracked him to his closest friends, and destroyed them, too. There was but one thing left he believed he could have done to change the outcome that he didn't—

"I should have been the only one to die."

Wet eyes and clinging, balled fists attacked the cloth against his chest. Yuna buried her face into him, exhaling lonely whimpers and muffled, heart-felt pleas as damp breaths into his collar.

"Please…no. Don't say that."

She'd never come right out and said it, but to Yuna, Baralai was the only one who truly understood. No matter how the brief war might have been prevented, he was the last one Yuna could blame. At heart, he was too sincere; too compassionate, even. When so many had perished, she and a plethora of others had taken up the duties of summoner again, minus the aeons and pilgrimages. There were simply too many sendings to perform. In spite of the sharply decreased population, Spira had never known so many summoners; not since before the first Machina War. Although it was the most painful step backwards, Baralai had been there with her the whole way since his arrival in Besaid.

In the end, he'd chosen to follow in her footsteps, and requested to be her apprentice. She'd trained him far too well, it seemed. The summoner's mentality was completely ingrained in him…or, perhaps she'd merely brought out some latent aspect of his personality. Not much had actually changed about Baralai, but those words, that honest wish for self-sacrifice, hurt her.

Touching the side of her head, Baralai silently attempted to assure her that the option was long gone. Yet, "You'd have done the same."

"If it could have made a difference…only if it would help others." Yuna sadly conceded, "But, I'd have to be sure…"

Certainty. That was a luxury that not even hindsight wanted to afford them. For that, Baralai was rendered speechless on the matter. To this very day, no one knew what the former Youth League faction had hoped to achieve in the end. For all intents and purposes, it was just a psychotic act of sheer hatred. He had no reason to believe that they'd have been satisfied with his death alone.

"We weren't supposed to be thinking about this." Baralai reminded her again. Neither of them could help it; quiet, star-lit nights like this with no light on the sea's horizon from the bustling human life that used to reside in Luca made it impossible not to.

Yuna sat up, studying Baralai's tired expression, curious that he'd finally cut to the chase. "The proposition…" she stated the true reason for their midnight meeting on the beach.

Following Baralai's initiation as an honorary summoner, one of the priests who'd help to raise Yuna had come to him, offering some unusual advice—_"Most of Spira has passed on, and more are old and soon to die. The care you and Lady Yuna have shown one another is enough. Marry her, and father many children. Renew Spira's hope the only way that is left to you."_

Meeting her eyes, clasping her hand in his, Baralai entertained his worst doubt. "If not for the war, what would you have done?"

"I'm not sure…I guess I hadn't made any real plans yet." She'd chosen to let Tidus go. All the change in and around her did not bode well for looking back. It was Kimahri's words that had sealed her decision. There was the future to be considered; continuously searching and yearning for what was lost would only create more sorrow. Difficult as it was, now was no different. No amount of regret, revenge, forgiveness, or endless mourning could reverse what had been done.

"Did you ever want to marry and have children?" Baralai continued to pry, a coy smile creeping into his otherwise grave expression.

Blushing, Yuna sank her toes into the cooled sand. "Someday, yes. Actually…I thought about it a lot when I was on my pilgrimage. Sometimes, I'd start to regret that I'd never have a family…but, I knew that so many others would, if I defeated Sin. It was enough…at the time…"

Baralai closed his eyes momentarily, thoughtful of what he'd wanted out of life before the war. Comparatively, it was hardly any different from Yuna. His immediate goals were to get New Yevon disarmed and prepared for dissolution, and then he'd step down from the political scene. After that, he'd no poignant ideas or plans about what to do. He'd simply take up a quieter profession, and if an honest, caring female soul took an interest, starting a family might become a possibility.

He couldn't say he opposed the idea with Yuna. They'd formed a strong, deep bond over the past two years. Out of respect for their master-student relationship in the summoner's arts, they'd simply never admitted to or acted on its full depth. If anything, the priest had been rather perceptive to see that more intimate feelings were lurking beneath the surface, although he wondered if they were mostly on his part.

"Hm. At the time…" he echoed her words, "I don't believe it is, anymore."

"No…it's not." Yuna confessed, tracing the outline of a random scar on his hand with her thumb. Yet, that was another thing she'd been willing to let go of when she accepted that Tidus was gone. How could she ever possibly feel even close to the same for another? Was it alright for these past two years with Baralai to suffice as an answer for that?

When several minutes of chilly silence ensued, Baralai frowned, feeling unexpectedly flustered. If being two of the last few people in Spira left wasn't enough to bring them together, then what was? "Do you still wait for _him_…?" he whispered half to Yuna, and half to the wind, remorseful for putting her on the spot.

"I don't…" Yuna glowered, considering that she'd learned the true meaning of obsession through herself. She cared for Baralai, she really did, but every time she dared to entertain anything beyond friendship, she found some twisted way to convince herself she was betraying her much-beloved memory.

But, if she walked away from the man before her in denial of the tender emotions he'd re-inspired in her—the thought made her heart ache. Had they not been courting one another all along, through their sending dances together, and their continual admonition to the bereaved to remember not just the ones dead and gone, but those that remained? So many lonely nights they'd sat up together, simply because the dark silence was too eerie; too much of a reminder.

Sensing her sudden inner turmoil, Baralai phrased his words carefully, "Yuna…Is there any reason you will not have me?" He already knew that she couldn't honestly answer in the positive without it being a tragic speech about how the past had tainted the present too much. Not that the feeling wasn't truly legitimate in a sense for all of Spira, but to cave in to it would essentially be to renounce any meaning in life. For all her brooding, that was still one thing he could be absolutely certain she'd never do.

As he'd hoped and predicted, her pensive scowl softened into a slight, melancholy smile. "You really like hearing me say no, don't you?" she gently teased him, "No, Baralai…there isn't...but…" How to tell him? If they married; if she decided to settle down with him, she didn't want it to be out of someone's preconceived idea of her perpetual duty to the world. Yuna was done with that. If Spira wanted calm, it was no longer her personal business to make it happen. Of course, she would always be kind and lend a hand where it was needed, but never again on that scale. It was always taken for granted, and never seemed to last. "Why do you want it to be me?"

Baralai harbored no delusions of making one last-ditch, symbolic effort of "saving" Spira by siring the High Summoner's children; actually, he'd hotly disagreed with the priest on that day, decrying the temple's insistence that Yuna and he marry for anyone's interests but their own. Already counting himself inexcusably sinful for failing to protect Spira from deadly corruption when he had the power, what was one more selfish act? He wanted to be with Yuna, not to renew Spira's hope as a sainted summoner, but because she was so good at renewing his. She lightened his soul, however certain its damnation. "Because anyone else would have left me for dead, as I deserve…"

"I don't want to believe that…" Long ago, Yuna would have instantly contradicted him, but Spira's self-destruction left her faith in humanity well-shaken.

Sighing, and returning his gaze to the heavens, Baralai chose a simpler reason this time. There were so many to choose from, after all. "Then, can you believe I truly enjoy your company?"

Yuna nodded, feeling pleasantly defeated. But, there was one last tiny guarantee she wanted; something almost childish in its simplicity; one little token that was too frequently superficial or outright false between others. "…Do—do you love me?" she whispered, hardly audible, but Baralai caught it, and he quickly tore his vision from the sky back to her red-cheeked, embarrassed face.

His features were sober and dead serious, as his eyes practically bored a hole through her in the following quiet seconds. Yuna almost felt guilty for asking. Of course, he was just repaying her, just giving her what he thought she deserved of him, or that's how she felt, until he finally answered. "Yes."

"I feel the same." Yuna softly replied, exhaling in relief and leaning into him, welcomed by a lazy arm around her shoulders.

The urge to fall asleep was fast creeping up on her, as the night was nearly spent. Out at sea, where the sky and waters merged, a thin, pink line had formed, signaling sunrise. They did this almost every night anymore; staying up until dawn, when the first minuscule signs of life could be detected. It was easier to sleep with those comforting sounds in the background. But, before she could prompt them to return to their hut, Baralai discretely slid a ring onto her finger, placing his in her other palm. She recognized the simple Bevellian marital tradition; acceptance of the proposal was only considered true if she did the same to him. Without another word, she gently took Baralai's hand, and reciprocated.

Rising from the grainy beach, they returned to the village hand in hand, exhausted and at peace, to rest together at last.


End file.
